


familiar sin

by bellaaanovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Worried Dean, deliquent sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-05-10
Packaged: 2018-01-24 06:54:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1595699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellaaanovak/pseuds/bellaaanovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to get Sam out of jail.</p>
            </blockquote>





	familiar sin

**Author's Note:**

> Sam is fifteen. Dean is eighteen.  
> Based on the [tags of] this post -> http://dcotn.tumblr.com/post/84930427502

_Saturday, 10:42 pm_

 

Dean’s about to break every fucking ratty piece of furniture in the rental house when the telephone starts to ring. Okay, that’s weird. No one has this number besides Dad and – _Fuck, Sam_.

 

Hurriedly, Dean answers the phone and bites his lip. “Sammy?”

“D-Dean?” Oh, thank God.

“Sammy, fuck, where have you been all night? It’s been _hours_ , I’ve been so worried.”

“I – I don’t have long. I can’t explain. I’m at Clallam County Juvenile Center, I – Please hurry.” Sam’s voice sounds broken, but what the hell is he doing in _juvie_?!

“What the fuck, Sam? What do you mean you can’t explain?” Dean grips the small table the phone is sitting on with hard force.

“Just come get me. I have to go.”

 

Right as Dean is going to argue back, the line goes dead and he swears he wants to rip the phone from the wall. They’ve been in Washington for what, three weeks, and Sam’s in a juvenile center? Jesus. Kid’s only fifteen and a mathlete, what could he have done?

 

Dean grabs his jacket and the keys to the Impala, rushing out the door of the house and flooring it to get to the center.

 

♛

 

_Saturday, 11:04 pm_

 

When Dean arrives, he immediately sees Sam past the reception area. His tall body is cramped on a small bench with a barely dressed woman of about twenty-five and a drunken man wanders the tiny holding cell. Great, Sam is stuck in an eight-by-eight cell with a drunken dude and a prostitute. Awesome, the Saturday night regulars.

 

The receptionist, a young, fairly attractive girl with the name _Peggy_ written in Sharpie marker on her name tag, clears her throat. “Can I help you?” Dean straightens up and turns his charm on and walks over to the desk, leaning his elbows on it.

“I don’t know. Maybe,” He takes a quick look around the center – she’s the only employee in the room besides a security guard outside the entrance. He jerks his head towards the holding cell. “See that lanky kid over there? He’s my brother. He doesn’t belong in here. I mean, look at him; I’m sure you can see it. He’s _miserable_ – Sammy shouldn’t be in that cell with a hooker and a drunk. Kid’s a mathlete, for God’s sake.”

The woman raises her eyebrows and glances at her clipboard. “Sammy, huh? Wouldn’t give us a name. Wouldn’t talk at all, actually, not until he called you. I’m presuming you’re Dean?”

“Most days, yeah.” Dean winks and Peggy blushes. “Can you tell me how he got in here?”

“I don’t know. The guy that brought him in left before I got here. The only thing I know is that his name is Sammy and his bail is at $200.”

“How long ago was this?”

“A couple of hours ago.”

 

A couple of _hours_ and Sam didn’t call him until twenty minutes ago?! Fuck, why did he hesitate – it’s fucking eleven at night, he’s _never_ home later than seven. And a bail?! The kid doesn’t have a record. He’s a fifteen year old, his bail shouldn’t be higher than, like, fifty bucks. Dean definitely doesn’t have two hundred bucks to spend on getting Sam out. Even if he did, they’d have to use it for food, for gas, for rent. Dad’s gone longer than he said he would be.

 

Trying to hide his rage, he wets his lips with his tongue and glances at Sam again. “Well, if you don’t know why he’s in here, _and_ I’m his legal guardian, could you just let my brother out? I don’t know; distract the guard outside for me?”

Peggy looks at the guard, at Sam, then at Dean. “What makes you think I can do that?”

“Oh, come on, look at you. You’re beautiful.” She was alright looking. He just needed to hit every possible angle to get this girl to let Sam go. Peggy blushes again and she hands Dean a ring of keys before heading outside.

“Be quick. Go out the back.”

 

Dean thanks her wordlessly and watches as Peggy goes outside and flirts it up with the guard. He rushes over to the cell and gets Sam’s attention.

“Dean?”

“I’m Luke Skywalker; I’m here to rescue you.” Sam rolls his eyes as he shoots up and Dean opens the gate. Sam hurries out and Dean re-locks the cell, ignoring the prostitute’s cursing. They jog through the reception area and Dean drops the keys back on the desk. The brothers go out the back door like Peggy instructed and hopped in the car.

 

“What the hell, Sammy? What did you do?” Sam is silent and won’t even lift his eyes up. “Fine. Fuck, fine, whatever. You better tell me, eventually. Dad _cannot_ find about this. He’d kill me.”

 

His brother still doesn’t say anything. The drive back to the pathetic one-story they’re renting takes a little longer than it did to get to the juvenile center, mostly because Dean isn’t rushing. He wants to pull this damn car over and shake his dumbass brother until he finally _looks_ at him and says something, but he ignores his impulse. Hopefully his dad will never, ever find out about this.

 

♛

 

_Saturday, 11:42 pm_

 

For the rest of the night, Sam doesn’t utter a single word. Although, every time Dean gets up to leave the room or go outside, Sam follows. What the fuck, man. Teenagers.

 

He gives the kid credit. This is the longest he’s gone without speaking to him for four months. Ever since that first kiss, that first blowjob, that first _everything_ , they’ve been joined at the hip more than usual. Luckily, their father hasn’t noticed it. Not like he’s around enough to anyways.

 

It still hurts not hearing from him.

 

But Dean ignores that, because Dad _will_ return from saving some poor sons of bitches and they’ll be on their way again. While Dean drinks a beer at the table, Sam is lying down on the couch and when he starts to hear snores, he picks him up and puts him to bed properly. He has dark circles around his eyes and his hair is stringy and dirty. Hopefully the kid will have enough energy to go to school on Monday and shower tomorrow.

 

Dean kisses Sam’s head and pulls the heavy comforter over him. Not much later, Dean passes out on the couch while watching an old Western film. It’s been a long night.

 

♛

 

_Monday, 7:08 am_

Sam’s only spoken four words. Two of them were _Dean_ and the other two were _I’m sorry_.

 

Dean pulls Sam into a hug in the school parking lot before he leaves. He isn’t even mad anymore, just slightly disappointed and greatly worried.

 

It’s not like Sam to go this long without speaking, _especially_ not after what they’ve been doing. They’re more than brothers now. Dean’s told Sam about his worst nightmares, he’s broken down in front of him, and he’s torn that wall down for him. Sam’s done the same. Why can’t he talk about it now?

 

After Sam is safely inside the building, Dean pulls the Impala out of the parking lot and decides to take a different way back to the house to grab a burger. On his way there, he notices a familiar scrawl he’s sure he’s seen before. “Oh, my God. _Sam_.” Dean pulls into a small parking lot and stares at a mostly blank white wall of the side of a building. He gets out of the car and leans against the hood, hands in his pockets.

 

On the wall is a gigantic, black spray-painted, updated version of the carvings in the backseat of the Impala.

 

**S.W.** **♡** **D.W.**

 

** **

Dean’s heart practically dissolves. This is what his brother got arrested for?

 

Suddenly every bit of anger, disappointment, and sadness disappears, and all he can feel is _love_ , and _pride_ , and _luck_. Suddenly he has no interest in returning to the shack his father calls a house and no desire to eat alone. Dean goes around to the trunk and digs around for a Polaroid camera he put in there a while ago. He finds it, and thankfully, there’s blank film in it. He snaps a photo of the graffiti and flaps the photo around as it develops. Proudly, he gets back into the car and drives back to the school.

 

Dean runs in the office and begs for Sam’s release. Ten minutes later, and Sam is in the office. Dean tugs him out by his hand and as soon as they get outside, he slams his brother against the wall and kisses him hard and deep. Sam moans gently and kisses him back just as deep. “W-what’s going on?”

“He speaks!” Dean grins and laughs, pulling the now-developed photograph from his jacket pocket and waving it in front of Sam’s face. “Look what I found.”

“Dean, I—“

 

The eldest Winchester holds a finger up and slides the photo back into his pocket, and wraps his hands around Sam’s small waist. God, this kid is getting taller and taller every time he looks at him. Dean starts to kiss his neck and mutter things in his ear and against his skin.

 

“I fucking love you, Sammy. Let’s get out of here. I fucking love you so much, you little delinquent.” Sam exhales a high pitched whine and nods, so Dean rushes them back to the house.

 

Suddenly, Dean isn’t hungry for anything but Sam.


End file.
